


Fish, man.

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (except i can't bring it in myself to add malia i'm sorry), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, more updates in the tags as i continue i guess??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles never really wanted fish as a kid. He was more of a dog person, all jokes, puns and irony intended. Fish seemed boring compared to the vibrancy and energy other animals had; he was also pretty vocal about the superiority of other animals compared to fish in particular. Once, his mom had bought him a pair of goldfish. Stiles maintained they just happened to have eaten too much.<br/>This was probably the wrong time to be thinking about his hatred for fish, Stiles thought as he stared at his supposed pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. so what's the sitch?

**Author's Note:**

> First Teen Wolf fic...ever? Also, this was supposed to be a really long one-shot but nOPE why would I want that when I could randomly update this lovely piece of work. It's based off a dream I had, actually, that was about My Chemical Romance? Weird, since I don't listen to MCR.

            Stiles never really wanted fish as a kid. He was more of a dog person, all jokes, puns and irony intended. Fish seemed boring compared to the vibrancy and energy other animals had; he was also pretty vocal about the superiority of other animals compared to fish in particular. Once, his mom had bought him a pair of goldfish. Stiles maintained they just happened to have eaten too much.

             This was probably the wrong time to be thinking about his hatred for fish, Stiles thought as he stared at his pack.

            They were currently swimming around in a large fish tank that was cheerily decorated with castles and limp seaweed. Stiles had opened the door to Derek’s loft, suspicious at the lack of noise coming from the official bi-monthly pack meeting, and was met with the sight of several agitated fish swimming in the spacious tank, and a note with eerily neat handwriting.

            “Please tell me this is a joke,” Stiles muttered as he walked slowly towards the tank, eyeing each individual fish. One- a particularly vibrant lionfish- seemed to huff, and Stiles frowned, recognising the amount of  _done._

            “Lydia, if that’s you, can you do, like, a turn?”

            The lionfish paused, before flipping in the water gracefully, and the rest of the inhabitants gave her a wide berth as she did so, avoiding the long, poisonous spikes.

            Stiles stared in disbelief at them. It was easy for him to work out who was who- he could see Erica and Isaac swimming around together, both blue and looking _fabulous,_ Scott who looked exactly like Nemo, and Boyd was lurking around the bottom of the tank, obviously a stonefish.

            “All right,” Stiles said quietly, “this is weird.”

            They all swam up to meet him, and he smirked before tapping the glass, laughing slightly as they all darted away.

            “Oh god,” he said, “My friends are fish. I’m a crazy fish man.”

            Stiles could feel the judging glare sent his way by all of them, as if he was missing something important. He rolled his eyes, and stretched, before calling Melissa who picked up on the first ring.

            “Mrs McCall," he said in his polite voice, knowing that she was on call and that aggravating her was most likely going to end in his death, "I really need your help.”

            “Stiles, I’m sorry honey, but I’m really busy.”

            “It’s urgent!”

            “Is it a problem I need to know about now?”

            Stiles paused. He didn’t really want to tell Melissa that her son, her Alpha werewolf son and his pack, were all fish and that Stiles didn’t want to look after them because he needed to freak out and then hunt down the witch that turned them into fish in the first place.

            “I need you to look after some fish for me.”

            In hindsight, he thought, that could’ve been phrased better.

            “Ask Derek,” Melissa sighed, before telling him to be careful and hanging up.

            “Noooooo,” Stiles howled at his phone, staring at it. “Melissa!”

            With baited breath, he called his dad, hoping that somewhere in his mind, he recognised the absolute urgency of the situation. He placed the phone on his knee and put it on speakerphone, thinking that maybe the pack lost their magical werewolf powers and wanted to hear the conversation. Said pack were currently staring at him, all with their best bitch-faces on.

            “Stiles? Is this about my lunch?”

            “What? Why would this be about your lunch?

            “No reason,” the Sheriff said quickly, and smoothly. Stiles frowned, and reminded himself to check the doughnut shop and the deli to see if they were smuggling delicious goods to him.

            “Hey, Dad, how do you look after fish?”

            There was silence on his end of the line. Stiles fiddled with the cord on his red hoodie anxiously, waiting for the reply.

            “Stiles, you are not getting fish.”

            “I don’t have a choice, Dad, I have nine wonderful, exotic ones in a large- wait, nine?”

            Oh. Nine.

            "Dad, where's Derek?"

            “He’s on his way to your meeting, remember?”

            Stiles forever hated the day he let Derek become a Deputy, for several reasons.

  1.      Derek and his Dad were a disturbingly good team.
  2.      Derek had already accidentally busted out of the goddamn police uniforms several times, meaning that he often came to Stiles’ house, shirtless and bloody, holding the remains of a police t-shirt that Stiles would painstakingly stitch together if it was possible. (Deaton was using this as an opportunity to get Stiles to practise using his ‘spark’, a term that Stiles loathes because of the goddamn fucking nogistune situation.)
  3.      Whilst he was on that topic- Derek and a uniform.



             He liked to think that his thing for Derek had curled up and died somewhere between the goddamn fucking kanima- thanks, Jackson- and the goddamn fucking nogitsune situation- thanks, Mrs Yukimura/fucking Alpha pack.

            “Stiles, I’m sure Derek can help you with whatever supernatural issues you’re having.”

            His dad hung up. Stiles growled, uncurling his body from its yoga position and wincing as he flopped back down onto the floor in the hopes of having a telepathic conversation with the pack.

            “Talk to me,” he said.

            They stared at him.

             “Oops.”

* * *

 

            Seven minutes later- he timed it- Derek burst into the loft. It was clear he had been running, but Stiles could sense that he wasn’t even sweaty.

            The bastard.

            Stiles didn’t turn to look at him, currently in a staring competition with Boyd.

            “Derek?”

            “Yes?”

            “If you turned into a wolf, would you be able to talk to them?”

            Derek frowned, turning to look at the fish. “This isn’t like Twilight, you know. We don’t share a telepathic bond, or whatever.”

            Stiles gaped. “You read Twilight?”

            “Cora told me the plot in graphic detail, including the rants of it's ridiculousness. What’s your excuse?”

            “I read all supernatural literature in the hopes that it may one day come in useful.”

            “Nothing in the Twilight universe is remotely similar to vampires.”

            “Not even their legendary libido overcoming the need to nurture and feed on human blood?”

            “Sorry to disappoint.”

            Stiles nodded, tapping a pen against his mouth and running over the ideas he had jotted down in a notebook. The letter left behind by the witch was crumpled up and smoothed out, upside down and the ink was slightly runny. Derek eyed it with a raised eyebrow.

            “How the fuck do you know this, anyway? Ran into a few Amazonian vampires when you went road-tripping with Cora? Lost a bet with one drunk on blood?” Stiles asked.

            “Because,” Derek said, shrugging off his leather jacket and throwing it onto the couch, “vampires don’t exist, dumbass.”

            Stiles gaped at Derek, before rolling his eyes.

            “You might as well say hello to your Alpha,” he said to Derek, motioning to what was the smallest fish there. Derek squatted down next to Stiles and looked at the tiny clownfish. His eyes flashed ice blue, and Scott moved up and down in a way that suggested he was nodding.

            “Let me see the note,” Derek said, pointing at the crumpled piece of paper.

            “Aw, dude,” Stiles replied, “I’ve got it copied down here. It’s exactly the same, worrying grammar and terrible punctuation choices and all.”

            “Why did you copy it down?” Derek asked, taking the notebook from Stiles gingerly and reading it.

            “I was trying to see if I could decipher the bit written at the bottom, then I realised, after I had thrown it into the fish tank on accident, that it was a mix of Ancient Greek and Polish, written backwards, so I copied it down and-” Stiles motioned to the notebook.

            “Did you translate it?”

            Stiles glared at Derek. “I’m sorry, am I fluent in Ancient fucking Greek?”

            Derek rolled his eyes. “I can just about get the gist of it, Stiles, so how about I handle that part, you handle the Polish, and then we’ll have the whole note deciphered.”

            Stiles cocked an eyebrow in shock and chose not to ask why Derek knew Ancient Greek. 

* * *

            "I have to say," Derek said uneasily, "it's really disconcerting to be translating next to a fishtank with _really loud fish_."

            He aimed his last words at Erica and Kira, who seemed to be bored. Stiles had finished his part of the letter, and has making funny faces at the two in an attempt to get them to stop banging themselves against the glass.

             "When do we ask Deaton what to do?" Stiles asked lazily, attempting to have a telepathic conversation with Scott. It was infinitely harder when Stiles was trying to be subtle, so he didn't distract the older man, and Scott had no facial expressions. All Stiles could gather was that Scott really hated being a fish.

            "Tomorrow," Derek said. His shoulders had tightened ever so slightly.

            "Why not today?" 

            "Because I have to dispose of your body today?" Derek offered, his voice raising slightly. Stiles plastered on a fake smile, and narrowed his eyes, before glaring at him outright. Derek stared back, and there were a couple of seconds of heated glaring from the two before someone- Stiles suspected Erica because it was always Erica- started jumping out of the water and splashing. 

            "The effects might wear off over the night," Derek finally said, "and we'll have the letter translated by then. If we go to Deaton tomorrow with the note fully translated and with a fresh perspective, it would probably be easier than us having to work through the night on this."

            Stiles waited.

            "I also don't trust him."

            The teenager nodded in reluctant agreement, and turned once again to Scott, and resumed their one-sided conversation. 

* * *

             Stiles trudged out of the Hale mansion slowly. He had refused to leave the pack in the care of Derek, no matter how good he was at looking after fish, because the Hale loft just reeked of depression and Derek would leave them alone at all hours of the day because of his job, leaving them vulnerable to attack from freaking birds flying in through a window or something, and Derek had refused to give the tank to Stiles, knowing that he would trip up on his way to the Jeep and kill all of the pack.

            They had come up with a solution, one that neither were fully comfortable with.

            Stiles got into his car, lovingly patting the sides and settling in the driver's seat after opening the front door. Derek came out a short while after, the fish tank in his arms. He walked quickly, and reached the car, getting in carefully, making sure that he didn't spill any water. Stiles waited until he had gingerly closed the door before turning his baby on.

            "To the pet shop," he said grimly.  

 


	2. walk into the pet shop like whaddup i got a big pack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know what tense this is supposed to be in. also I had to google whether America has the chip and pin system, and guys, you really have to get it. there was going to be a scene where stiles knew derek's pin and the shop lady was like 'whaaa' but nOPE who cares about extra safety when you could just swipe a card

            The Beacon Hills Pet Shop was  _stupid._ The walls were clean and pristine, the animals in their large, spacious cages were happy, and the door had a fucking bell, so that when Stiles entered the place with Derek motherfucking Hale, it alerted the attention of the only worker there, a sullen woman with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. 

            "Heeeeeey," she chimed, looking Derek up and down. "How are you, Deputy Hale?"

            Derek grunted, and Stiles felt oddly relieved that Derek still hadn't acquired the acceptable social skills needed to navigate his way through failed flirting attempts. The woman's smile faltered as he looked around the shop.

            "I'm gonna," Derek said, finishing his sentence with an eyebrow raise to Stiles, before he wandered off to...wherever he thought he needed to go. It was almost as if he wanted to break the hearts of every available woman and/or man. Maybe Stiles included.

            "Hale," Stiles hissed. Derek turned and frowned, and Stiles rolled his eyes. He made a rocking motion, and pointed to the ginormous fucking fish tank that had nine fucking exotic fish swimming around inside- seriously, how could you forget that you were carrying a fish tank? Derek narrowed his eyes slightly, and Stiles paused.

            So this was what they were going to do- have a stupid, telepathic conversation. Well, no siree. Today was to be a day for _communicating,_ and being  _nice._

            "Gimme," he said.

            Derek jutted his chin out in the general vicinity of the confused worker. Stiles shook his head vehemently, and made beckoning motions with his hands, . 

            "Derek, give me the freaking fish tank."

            "I can...wait?" the woman said, her plastered on smile wavering. It threatened to drop at any moment.

            "Oh no," Stiles reassured her, turning to face her and patting her awkwardly on the arm, "it's okay, someone just happens to be allergic to human interaction. Not really helpful, considering how he's an officer of the law, but his eyebrows come in handy for scaring the crap out of perps."

            "Alright," she said. Stiles' wise words hadn't really seemed to have helped her.

            "See," Stiles continued, "I would ask some questions about fish- you know, maintenance, premium fish food, cleaning, what happens when they poop, and I would do it with visual examples, but I can't because a certain _Sourwolf-_ " Stiles raised his voice slightly and turned to face Derek, well aware that the werewolf's hearing was good enough "- has the fish tank."

            "Sourwolf?" she asked. Stiles looked at her name badge- Wendy.

            "Inside joke," Derek said lowly, walking over. "Stilinski, here's the fish tank. They're being insufferable."

            He dumped the fish tank into Stiles' arms.

            "That's so sweet of you." Stiles batted his eyes and mock-pouted, ignoring Derek's returning glare. "Giving me the children when they're being naughty, Der-Bear, that makes my heart melt."

            The older man huffed, before walking away. Stiles carefully placed the tank onto the counter.

            "Okay," Stiles said with renewed vigour, "tell me everything you know on fish maintenance."

            "What do you want to start with?" Wendy asked, her voice dripping with cloying sweetness. It was almost as if she could sense the fact that a lot of money was going to be spent, and she was not wrong. He didn't care how long the pack stayed fish, they were going to have a good time. They were going to enjoy being fish so much, they would be sad to not be aquatic life-forms anymore.            

* * *

            Derek stared at the dog food. 

            What was the difference between beef kibble and chicken kibble? Why was one brand 'better' when there was literally no difference between the cheaper, bigger brand? He began internally debating over the two brands when he remembered that he had no reason to be thinking about dog food. He could almost hear the dog jokes in his head, and the voice sounded a lot like Stiles.

            Speaking of Stiles.

            Derek turned his head slightly, and sensed that they had begun to round up the conversation. There were faint sounds of scratching- pen on paper- and murmuring about prices. He sighed, and fished ( _no time for puns, Derek,_  he heard from the recesses of his mind) out his wallet, and picked out his credit card.

            "Derek!" Stiles said loudly. "Just throw it over here!"

            "I'm not throwing the card," he replied, walking over slowly. He was aware that it was childish, making Stiles wait, but he really didn't want to feel the judging looks from fucking fish. 

            Especially Boyd. His look was more intense because you could only see his eyes.

The werewolf raised his eyebrow at Boyd- god, this was weird- and gave the card to Stiles who quickly swiped it. 

            Stiles began packing the items into the bag, and Derek picked up the tank from the counter. It gave him a sense of domesticity, which he quickly brushed off. He could think about that later, when he wasn't carrying his pack.

            Who were animals.

            It was still weird.

* * *

            **hey do u thnk we need to buy tht insta-clean fish tank thing- ss**

_no- dh_ __

**but scotts prtty drty & i dont wnt to talk bout wht he + allison r gon get up to- ss**

 

_please stop talking about scott and allison's sex life- dh_

  **guess u could say its...fishy business- ss**

 

 

**hey do u the witch made a fishtake?- ss**

 

**** **dude those puns took me ages- ss**

****

**guess ill have to _scale_ back- ss**

****

**if u find any better let minnow- ss**

 

__ __ _stop-dh_

__they aren't bad i cod do batter- dh__  (!)

____ there was a problem with this text. please try to send it again later.

            **btw when r ur shift times tomorrow- ss**

_i know- dh_

****so ill come round @ 8- ss** **

_you still have the keys- dh_

****

****                                                                                        

 


End file.
